AUTHOR'S NOTE: 04/07/06 - Sorry that these aren't coming as quickly as before. I have been having computer problems that have been compounded by the ff . net pages failing to load!
CHAPTER 54
FACE-TO-FACE
Still unaware of the approaching Alterran fleet or the Doctor's current activities, the Gres-Fa-Raayn continued their unrelenting ultrasonic transmission. Eventually the structures succumbed to this equivalent to a slow motion earthquake. Mortar was shaken out of bricks, loose items were shaken from shelves and tabletops, and plaster started to shake from walls and ceilings. Deep within the legislative stronghold, the affects were just as slow to appear. At first a layer of dust was shaken from the ceiling. Then small bits of plaster started to fall, attracting the attention of the occupants.
"So that's what they're up to," the Doctor said, looking up at the ceiling. He seemed to come to a decision and turned sharply to the globe, ordering, "l'X'el, move the fissure to the bridge of that ship."
l'X'el gulped. "What?"
"You heard me. I've had enough of this nonsense. Time I had a little face-to-face chat with our Gres-Fa-Raayn Commander. He's starting to annoy me."
"Doctor, I don't know if I can keep the corridor steady this close to the planet."
"Just do your best."
l'X'el exchanged a helpless look with his brother before doing as he was told. He had already pulled the fissure back from the approaching Alterran fleet and looked at the image on the globe to see where the Gres-Fa-Raayn ship was in orbit. As was customary with the Elite, it was not in a geostationary orbit, the ship moving slightly slower than the planet. This meant having to match the speed of the ship to the rotation of the planet where the manipulator room was located. One miscalculation and the corridor would end in space. After several failed attempts, l'X'el finally managed to make contact with the ship and hold the corridor steady. "No promises," he said as the opening in the corner started to solidify.
"None asked for," the Doctor replied, taking a step closer to the opening. After a few seconds, the interior of the ship on the other side was clearly visible. "Hello! Can you hear me over there?" he called out as if he were calling over a neighbor's back fence.
Commander Tre-Aal appeared at the opening, several armed guards appearing behind him. "Who dares invade the flag ship of the Gres-Fa-Raayn Elite?" he demanded pompously.
"Well, you're arrogant enough to be a member of the Elite, I'll say that for you," the Time Lord remarked blandly.
"You're under arrest. Come out now or we'll come in and—"
"Oh, do put a sock in it, Tre-Aal," the Doctor snapped impatiently. "I'm speaking to you from the end of a temporal corridor. So unless you're a time sensitive, I wouldn't suggest you go mucking about inside. Not unless you want to age yourself and your crew by several millennia."
Tre-Aal wisely took a step away from the opening.
"Now that I have your attention, allow me to introduce myself. I am known as the Doctor." The Doctor's voice became hard as flint. "You are here illegally, committing a terrorist act on a protected planet—"
"So…?" Tre-Aal snorted.
"So I want you out of this system before the end of this solar day."
The Gres-Fa-Raayn commander stood staring for several seconds before he burst out laughing. He turned to his crew, gesturing to the opening. "He dares to order me to leave!"
"By the end of this solar day," the Doctor repeated firmly.
"Just who do you think you are, ordering me about? You're no Wieonol, and you don't look like one of their alien guard dogs. Are you a free agent?" The Commander caught his breath and pointed a finger. "You're the one who blocked our signal! Of course! Whatever they're paying you, I'll double it."
"I'm not here to give you my particulars!" the Doctor snapped, appalled at the very idea.
"Pity. I could use talent like yours. Our last free agent wasn't worth squat."
"Just so we understand each other. I am not Wieonol, Alterran, or a free agent." The Doctor drew himself to his full height, announcing grandly, "I am a Time Lord."
The affects of this statement were so dramatic it startled the trio who were watching the conversation as it played out on the globe. Commander Tre-Aal stepped back as if he had been struck physically. The security men behind him exchanged a nervous glance and then edged further away from the opening.
"A Time Lord!" Tre-Aal gasped. Then he scowled. "What interest do the Time Lords have in this little grease speck of a planet?"
"Grease speck? Grease speck!" the Doctor replied, his indignation rising along with his voice. "One of the oldest civilizations in the cosmos. Its heritage rich in history, art, philosophy and you call it a grease speck. If it has no military value, it's worthless as far as the narrow minded Elite are concerned, isn't it?"
"It must have something valuable if the High Council sent you to protect it," Tre-Aal replied, having partially regained his equilibrium.
"Sent? Sent!" By now the Doctor could barely suppress his outrage. "I wasn't sent by anyone. I happen to be the Lord President of the High Council of Time Lords." That will throw him off his stride, the Doctor thought, watching as his words had just such an affect. Before the Commander could recover, the Doctor repeated his order that he leave the system immediately. "And just incase you need a bit more incentive…" he added coldly. "The Lord Emperor of Alterrous has ordered a battalion of his own Elite forces to reinforce the troops that are already on this planet. Troops, I might add, unaffected by your ultrasonic transmission."
"Damn you!" the Commander snarled.
"Temper, temper. That's not the way of the Elite, is it?" the Time Lord chided, wagging a finger. "Now, get out of this system before the fleet arrives and turns you into a grease speck. You have less than eight hours." He turned sharply and commanded, "Cut the link, Lix."
l'X'el did not have to comply. At that moment the ship moved out of range and the corridor shifted into space. "I'm losing it," he cried out.
"Just relax and take your time," the Doctor replied calmly.
"Wouldn't it've been easier for you to have done that in the first place?" Pr'Ce'el said in a judgmental tone, adding, "Lord President."
The disapproving look the Doctor turned in the boy's direction made him flinch. "No, it would not," he responded acidly. "And it's former President actually. But they don't need to know that, do they?"
"But the way they reacted…"
K'ell'k tried unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh. "Don't you see? The Doctor did that to establish his authority. That Commander didn't even question the fact that there's an Alterran fleet on the way, and they can't've picked them up on long-range scanners yet. Their equipment isn't nearly as sophisticated as the TARDIS. Look, they've broken orbit already."
Pr'Ce'el turned to see the ship moving very quickly away from the planet.
"That bang on the head didn't affect your reasoning in the slightest, did it, Kay?" the Time Lord remarked admiringly, bringing a self-conscious smile to K'ell'k's face.
Just then a large chunk of plaster fell from the ceiling onto the entry pad l'X'el had been wrestling with and triggered an alarm on the Doctor's own device. Pr'Ce'el looked down at it in horror. "Doctor, we're losing the link with your TARDIS!"
"What?" Before the Time Lord could react, the temporal fissure behind him flared brightly. l'X'el frantically brushed the debris from his computer and struggled with the controls before finally getting them under control. Or so he thought. When the glare in the corner faded, the trio were horrified to discover the Doctor had vanished and the entrance to the temporal fissure had partially closed.
When the alarm on the Doctor's device sounded, another sounded on the TARDIS's control console. Grant scrutinized the reading and scowled. "It's coming from a completely different panel than all the others," he said in bewilderment. He had seen the Gres-Fa-Raayn ship break orbit and had barely finished silencing all the alarms after the ultrasonic transmission ceased. So what had triggered this newest one?
Jason sat up a little, propping himself up on his elbow. He had absorbed enough energy to repair his internal organs, but not enough to repair his skin or the complex sensor array connected to his eyes. "Describe it," he commanded. "Starting at the edge nearest you."
Grant did as instructed, stopping when the Alterran caught his breath. "That's the telepathy circuits," he gasped, struggling to a sitting position. "Check the scanner, quickly. See what's going on out there."
Finally, Grant thought, controls he actually knew the location of and how to use them. He manipulated the dial, watching as the image of the room outside came into view.
"What do you see?" Jason asked impatiently.
"There's a…swirl…distortion…something in the far corner," Grant replied in bewilderment.
"The temporal fissure. What else? Where is everyone in the room?"
"Hang on, let me make a sweep of the room." The young man moved the dial, watching as the scanner moved through three hundred and sixty degrees. He described the positions of the Wieonol youths and looked for the Doctor. "I don't see him!" he gasped, noting the panicked looks on the faces of the trio in the manipulator room.
"Something went wrong. Dammit! I knew something would go wrong!" Jason struggled to sit up fully. "Help me up."
Grant gave him a horrified look. "What? Jason, you're in no condition—"
"Grant," Jason cut in sharply, "the TARDIS is telepathically linked to the Doctor. That alarm means he's in trouble. The fact that you don't see him confirms that. Now help me up."
Unable to argue with the logic, Grant was halfway across the room before he asked a very pertinent question. "Why?"
"Because I have to go outside and I need you to help me get there."
The young man stopped dead in his tracks. "What! Are you out of your mind?"
"Very probably. Now are you going to help me or am I going to have to crawl?"
Grant stood staring in an agony of indecision. He was responsible for keeping the injured Alterran safe and alive, which meant keeping him inside the console room. Normally he would have been no match for him, but in his weakened condition, Jason was no match for the slightly built youth. Grant could very easily overpower him in order to keep him from leaving. Then again, there was their joint loyalty to the Doctor; a loyalty that was obviously driving the debilitated Jason beyond the limits of rationality and self-preservation.
"Grant, please! Help me!" Jason exclaimed in desperation.
Drawing a deep breath, and questioning his own sanity, Grant pulled the door lever and went over to help the Alterran to his feet, having to support nearly all of his weight as he did so. "If the Doctor isn't in trouble he's going to be very angry."
"And if he is," Jason replied in an annoyed tone, "he'll never admit it, blast him."